Subject One
by Jack Velvet
Summary: Post S4. There is only the glass, the observation room, and the cell. The podium delivers messages of love, family, and regret. Claire, Peter, Sylar


**Title:** Subject One**  
Author:** Jack Velvet**  
Spoilers:** Through the end of S4.**  
Rating:** M / R**  
Warnings:** Disturbing imagery and events.**  
Characters:** Claire, Peter, Sylar**  
Summary:** Post S4. There is only the glass, the observation room, and the cell. The podium delivers messages of love, family, and regret.

**Disclaimer:** _Heroes_ (c) Tim Kring/NBC. This work of fiction is presented here, royalty free, to express a love of the franchise that the aforementioned work falls under. No infringement is intended.

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Subject One  
by Jack Velvet

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The glass.

It's not actually made of glass, but it's transparent. The pane is square, with an area of thirty-six square feet, and it's three inches deep. A strong nano-weave coated by the transparent material prevents it from being broken by minor explosions and the strongest of humans.

The observation room.

It's a sterile dead-end hallway, with a clean, metal bench and table. Bright, round, inset fluorescent lights dot the ceiling. An intercom is to the left of the glass; it is not a structural weakness as it is not part of the wall. Instead, it is on its own small, heavily-anchored podium, which is wired into the ground.

The cell.

The cell sits opposite the observation room, divided from said room by the glass. The floorplan is simple: eight by eight feet, with the glass centered on the wall shared with the observation room. Each surface, aside from the cot, is hard. Nothing inside is sharp, nor could it be removed to be fashioned into something sharp. The cell is not as sterile as its neighbor. Though designed to be hermetically sealed, the cell is covered in the infection. The floor is littered with scraps of skin and hair. There is no door to the cell, only a small dumbwaiter that functions much more like an airlock. The room is under quarantine, but also observation.

The glass doesn't vibrate, but the podium speaks. It screams, actually, and cries a lot too. But the glass doesn't vibrate.

The virus isn't named after Subject One. It's named by the genetic watermark inside the strands of DNA. Haven't heard of that before? It's easier to remember the names of the geneticists than it is their organization. At least it is inside of the corporation. To Subject One, the name of the virus is easy: Z.

The thing that makes Z so effective is the way the body responds to it. Even the most efficient of immune systems hasn't dealt with a virus like it before, so in its attempt to adapt, the body responds violently. In short, as the response puts the immune systems into overload, the body shorts out, and dies. That's the polite way of putting it.

In Subject One, the body shorts out, but the body does not die. The virus sheds. The virus comes back up. The virus mutates the body. But the body does not die. The body cannot adapt. The skin sheds, and the skin grows back, but the virus remains. It is very painful for Subject One.

Lately, the body's circuitry has been unable to keep up with the body's attempts to expel the intruder. Skin sheds at a slighter higher rate than the skin repairs. It seems exponential, but it is not. The immune system is still linked to the mind, and when the mind is gone, the immune system takes a break. When the mind returns, the immune system returns, and the body tells the skin to grow a little faster.

But the virus is still there.

This is why Subject One calls the virus Z.

It has turned her into a zombie.

It happened quickly. One minute, she was leaping from the top of the ferris wheel. The cameras were on her. The news spread fast. Then the men came. They killed her father to get to her. The serial killer couldn't hold them back. The last thing she remembers before the cell is the sound of her uncle shouting her name.

The tests were very easy at first. She expected them. Then they harvested organs. Nothing substantial, like her heart. They didn't want to kill her until they found another like her.

Then came the diseases. The minor ones were quick kills. Her body destroyed them. Then they'd do some tests, take more blood than they should have, maybe a kidney, and said nothing. She assumed that they were studying them, or injecting themselves with the super-immune blood in order to kill off any disease they might have. She maintained her sanity by believing she was curing AIDS.

Then came the manufactured diseases. She fought them, but sometimes it took a few hours as the body came up with a plan. There was one that had her in a cycle of asphyxiation for three days, but it passed, just as the others did.

Not Z.

Z didn't go away.

The podium is crying when Doctors Li and Mishok enter the observation room. Subject One assumes they are new, or that maybe her mind is deteriorating now too. She wishes for an end to this misery.

Doctor Li presses the button on the crying podium. "Subject One?"

The young woman glares back at the men. She doesn't answer.

"Doctor Li," says Doctor Mishok. "It appears that Subject One doesn't wish to speak with us."

"It appears so."

Sparks erupt in the cell and in the observation room. The cameras go offline.

Subject One, startled by the sudden change in her environment, feels emotional. A clump of hair falls onto her shoulder.

"It's okay," Doctor Li assures her.

The glass is playing tricks on her again. It has to be another test. She'd been forgotten there for so long, and with her father dead, there was no one left to rally for her rescue. So why is the glass doing this to her?

The glass doesn't vibrate, but the podium speaks in loud bangs.

"Stop it! Stop it!" she screams, fists pounding. But the glass doesn't vibrate.

"Claire! Please, it's us!" Peter answers.

"No! No! This is just another test! You're just playing with me!"

"We're going to get you out of there," Sylar says.

Subject One stops pounding. The podium is silent. The glass doesn't vibrate. The observation room is quiet. The cell is still infected.

"Is it really you, Peter?" she asks, palms flat against the glass.

Peter raises his hand up to hers, notices the decay and the sight of bone, but doesn't flinch. He doesn't feel her warmth. All he feels is the glass.

"It is. We're going to get you out of here. Get you help."

The podium sobs. Subject One's nose presses on the glass. "You can't."

Sylar leans against a wall, looking at the room, letting the family have their private moment.

Peter nods his head. "We can. We got this far. We will get you out of here."

"No, you can't. I can't leave. You'll..."

"She's not healing, Peter," Sylar mutters. He looks at the scraps of dried flesh on the floor of the cell. "She's infected."

"I can see that!" he yells at him. A terrified cry escapes the podium. "Claire! Please, don't be scared. We can get through this. _You_ can get through this!"

"No! _No!_" Her tears mark the glass. "I can't! I can't! This one won't go away! I just...I need to go, Peter! Please! You're the only one!"

"That's what I'm saying, Claire." His hands remain on hers, three inches of glass between them. "Please. I promise you, we'll get you out of here." Her uncle is crying, unable to control his emotions at the sight of his decrepit niece. The body heals, but the virus is still there.

"No, no, no no no," she whimpers. "No, I need to _go_, Peter." Her voice cracks. "This can't get out. I have to _go_. I can't...I can't stay alive."

Peter backs up from the glass, holding his hair tightly as his chest heaves. "No! I'm not going to do that! I can't..."

"Please! _Please, Peter!_" she begs him. "I can't be alive! I can't spread this! _Please!_"

Sylar touches Peter's shoulder, and speaks for him. "Maybe there is a cure somewhere in the building."

"_I'm_ the cure! _I'm supposed to be the cure!_" Her fists pound the glass again. She knows it won't break, so she doesn't worry. The glass never vibrates.

Peter joins her again. "Claire...I'm so sorry. I'm sorry we couldn't find you sooner. I'm sorry _I_ couldn't find you sooner. Please...I missed you. I love you. There's so little of our family left..."

"Peter...I-I know. I love you. I'm so sorry for...this. For what I did. I'm so sorry. _I'm so sorry!_"

"Peter." Sylar's hand is on his shoulder again. Subject One is right. He knows it. Peter knows it. Subject One knows it.

"Gabriel..."

"Peter. I can do this. You don't need to watch."

"Peter," Subject One pleads. "Please. I can't do this anymore. I need to go. Please? Tell everyone how much I love them."

Peter's face is red and moist. His hands remain on the glass. "I have to see, Gabriel."

"I don't want you to," he answers.

"I want her to see the face of her family before she leaves," Peter explains. He looks at Subject One‒at Claire‒and says, "I love you."

"I love you too, Peter." Chap lips quivering, she tells him, "I'll try not to scream. I'll try to be strong. I can...see them again, Peter. Both of them."

He wails as the podium whispers to him that it's okay. He collects himself haphazardly, putting on a smile to ease her pain, but it isn't enough. She screams as she feels the first cut, pounding on the glass as her animal instinct to resist death kicks in. She wants it, but then she's begging for Peter not to watch, screaming at him to shut his eyes, yelling at Sylar to keep going. Sylar tries, having to focus his telekinesis on both Claire and Peter, tears streaming down his cheeks as he maintains his resolve to do the right thing, and end her suffering. Peter wants to hurt him‒wants to kill him‒and swears that the pain won't subside until Sylar pays for his mistake.

The screaming ends. The podium quietly thumps. The glass is stained red. The observation room is no longer sterile: Sylar contaminates it with his stomach. Peter is shaking, swearing vengeance on all the wrong people.

"I'm sorry, Peter." Sylar, weak, manages to get more sparks into the cell. The attempts are pathetic at first, but get better. The cot is on fire. The body burns. The virus is no longer there.

Peter is an inconsolable wreck. Sylar wonders if this was his breaking point. They have little time. He collects Peter, and they leave the cell, the glass, and the observation room behind.

The corporation that created Z must be destroyed. Z must be destroyed.

_End._


End file.
